


Soft as a Psalm

by ryesnatcher (criminalwriting)



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Creepy Mark Jefferson, F/M, Spoilers, Swearing/Cussing, The Dark Room, serious topics (sort of)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2019-05-31 14:40:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15121607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/criminalwriting/pseuds/ryesnatcher
Summary: As Jefferson begins to take control of Blackwell, how far will Nathan trust his instincts, how far will he go to protect the ones he loves? / New to Blackwell, you take an interest in its most hated student. As the the two of you grow closer, you can't help but notice something strange is happening in Arcadia.(Nathan x Reader that follows the disappearance of Rachel and continues up until 'Dark Room')





	1. Something There

## ONE

> ### 26th March

In shallow cheeks she inhales from his cigarette, not daring to meet his eyes. She wsan’t afraid, he didn’t scare her. But the act still did. Each time she inhaled it felt as raw on her throat as the first. Of course she’d taken it to impress him. She’s not sure if it did. But it made her feel older somehow. More adult. Handing it back to him she holds in a cough, avoiding his gaze as Nathan lets out a small laugh, a blush creeping to her cheeks and suddenly she despises the security lights that surround Blackwell.

Clearing her throat she distracts herself from the burn in the back of it. “So, you’re one of Jefferson’s photography proteges huh?”

Nathan shoots her a quick frown, exhaling the smoke from his lungs. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh I just heard that you’re meant to be like the next Eugene Smith or something.” She shrugs, ignoring the defensive tone to his voice. 

Letting out a small sigh he looks towards her, leaning back on his hands. His palms pressing into the ground, soft with the days rain. “Depends on who you ask.”

“Well I’m asking you.” 

He huffs slightly, flicking away the butt of his cigarette, watching it roll on the ground, stopping as it hits the wall. Y/N watching and growing increasingly aware of the growing chill in the air, wondering whether it came from the company she kept or simply the spring air. Bringing her arms closer to her chest she regrets having taken his offer to smoke. If she’d have ignored him or simply declined she’d be tucked into bed, drifting off to the sound of whatever drama Victoria had conjured. 

Nathan is the first to break the chill between them. “So what is it _you_ do here?” His voice feigns a clear disinterest and for a brief second, Y/N considers not answering. 

Beginning with a small sigh she looks away from him, squinting at the graffiti sprawled across the swimming pools walls. “I mean, I take the drama club pretty seriously.” Disappointed with her own answer she doesn’t notice the flash of excitement spread across Nathans face. Instead she clears her throat, facing him a second too late. “So why are you of all people, sat alone outside of Blackwell’s state of the art swimming pool?” She asks, hesitating a moment. “Other than handing out cigarettes to strangers I mean.” In the few weeks she’d been at Blackwell, she’d heard a lot about Nathan and nothing had ever suggested they’d meet like this. 

“You’re not a stranger. I see you in my lit class.” 

“I guess. But that doesn’t tell me why you’re here.” She looks to him expectantly. Studying his face under the harsh lights, they make him seem paler, softer somehow. The red in his eyes a gentle glow, poetic for a photography student she thinks sarcastically.  
“No it doesn’t.”

Or not she thinks to herself, rolling her eyes and letting out a small sigh. Her breath twisting itself into the cold air. For a moment she amuses herself with the sight of her breath, heavy and writhing among the stars. Soon deciding she’d bored and eager to sleep, pulling herself up from the grass and dusting herself off. “I guess I should be going anyway. It’s getting cold.” 

“You can have my jacket if you want to stay.” Nathan suggests, looking away at his own words as if they were stained into the lingering smoke. Reaching into his pocket for his cigarettes. “We can have another smoke. Or I have some weed back at my dorm…”

Considering it for a moment she shakes her head. “Thanks Nathan. But I’m going to head back to my room. I have a dress rehearsal tomorrow morning so.”

He gives her a quiet nod back, and Y/N almost feels bad for leaving. Even in the brief time it had taken them to share a cigarette, he felt different to how she’d expected. And she’d be lying if she wasn’t curious to know more. But the forced conversation and the chill that came from the wind of being sat so close to a Prescott made her eager for the comfort of her own bed. So she gives a salute, smiling to him. 

“I’ll hold you to that offer though.” She calls, stepping back from him and turning on her heels. Shivering under the feel of his eyes on her back.

> ### 27th March

This would be her third school in three months. The last of the worst which had brought her here. To the shores of Arcadia Bay. Where in the few weeks she’d lived there, she’d seen nothing but the same. The same trucks passing by, the same people following each other into the Two Whales, the same orders leaving their lips. It was a town without change, and the whole place knew it.

“Miss Y/L/N.”

Ignoring the voice, she watches the smoke rise outside of the window, trailing between the flowering bushes and disappearing somewhere inside. And she can’t help but think of the previous night. Of Nathan and the cigarette they’d shared together. The memory bringing a smile to her lips.

“Miss Y/L/N. Do I have your attention?” 

She looks across to the deep-set eyes of Principal Wells, his distaste being spat in heavy words across his desk. 

“Undividedly.” She replies with a quick smile. 

“As I was saying, interests in extracurricular activities and consistent grades are no excuse to perform anti-social behaviours. If it is again suggested that you are responsible for the obscene graffiti around Blackwell, serious action will be taken.” 

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes she sits forward in her chair, daring a quick glance towards the clock. “I’m sure the culprit is truly terrified, Sir. However, I see no evidence pointing towards it being me, and if that’s all I’d like to leave. I have a drama lab that I’d hate to be late for. 

He sighs heavily, shaking his head. “Enough with the teen-tude Miss Y/L/N. I-“

“It’s not an attitude Sir. I simply don’t want to be late because of a mere accusation. I’m sure a late referral won’t look great on my record. Especially if I am to be standing trial for, what was it again?” 

Wells shakes a hand to her, cutting her off as he resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose and reach for the bottle hidden in his draw. “This is not over Miss Y/L/N. But you are free to go to your class, after all this was just a courtesy warning. Next time there will be consequences.” 

She’s nodding and pulling her bag onto her shoulder before he’s even finished, giving him an insincere nod as she shuts the door behind her. 

_At least that’s something every school principals had in common;_ “Asshole” She mumbles to herself, taking a moment to fix her hair and rub the sleep from her eyes. As she steps to leave the busy admins area she recognises one of the figures slumped into the small plastic chairs. His red jacket as unmistakable as the resting scowl he seemed to wear. 

Smiling to herself, Y/N walks towards him. Nudging his foot with her own. “Hey, I hope whatever you did isn’t too bad. Wells seems like he’s on a warpath this morning.” She laughs gently, instantly dropping her smile as she sees the look on his face. The storm carried in his eyes and the darkness that hangs below them. Barely even a fraction of the smile he gave her last night on his lips. 

“I thought you had an important dress rehearsal this morning.”

Matching his cold tone, she folds her arms and looks away from him as she speaks. “I do. I got summoned here as soon as I arrived.”

He looks her once over, daring to meet her eyes. “Shouldn’t you be off to it then?” 

Y/N scoffs, shaking her head and striding off towards the drama lab. Fury at Nathans audacity to act _hurt._ Had she really offended him by rejecting his offer? Perhaps he really was as self-entitled as the rumours said. She shakes the thought from her head, deciding she wouldn’t stoop that low in her upset. 

Walking into the drama lab she barely even disturbs Keaton as he whispers to himself the lines spoken on their makeshift stage. A clipboard grasped between his pale hands, he barely even acknowledges her aside from his small nod towards the dressing room. Not daring to interrupt Hayden’s flow. 

The dressing rooms themselves were nothing more than a divider separating the far end of the room from the mirrored walls. And now that the costume rails had been moved in, there was little space to move. Even if it was cramped, Y/N found It only served the room more. The clutter of the costumes and props met with the passive aggressive notes left from cast member to cast member gave her a rush of excitement. It made everything so much more real. As if the electricity of a storm burned in the air beside them. 

“Y/N.” Rachel calls out, her soft hand already guiding her towards the divider, laden with forgotten clothes. “I’m so glad you showed up. I thought I was going to be playing dress rehearsals with your understudy.” 

The two laugh together, Y/N shaking her head as she steps behind the privacy of the divider, extending her hand as Rachel hands her layer upon layer of her costume. “God no, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” As she talks, she drags her hands upon the soft cotton of the dress, twisting her hips to watch it coil around her legs, a small smile creeping to her lips. 

“How does it fit?” Rachel asks, her voice anxious as she doesn’t await a response, peering around the divider. Y/N holding her hands out to allow her a proper look, unsure what the glint in her eye meant. 

“It feels great.” She admits, spinning in the mirror before stepping out. Letting Rachel pull her hands over each seam, tightening the bow to the apron. “I mean, I definitely feel like a beauty in this.” She giggles, Rachel gasping in mock hurt. 

“Are you saying I’m going to look like a beast?”

“Hopefully. I mean that is what we’re selling right?”

Y/N moves over to the soft chairs, sitting down slowly as she attempts not to crease her dress. Waiting for Rachel to change she looks towards the clutter of notes and forgotten makeup, abandoned on the dressing tables. Skimming through them, she reads note after note, reading until she spots an undeniable signature. _Prescott._

At first it seemed strange that he would have left a note lying in the drama lab of all places. But it seemed even stranger that he’d leave it sign it himself. From rumour, Y/N knew that the only Prescott who signed was his father.  
Gingerly she peels the note from the table, a few others lifting with it. 

_Can you stop leaving your fucking shit on the tables. It’s harder to find the shit we need for scenes. Prescott._

Y/N gives a sharp inhale, turning the note to check the back for more. “Holy shit.”

“What do I look that good?” Rachel asks from behind the divider. 

“Nathan used to be in the drama club?” She asks, leaning back in the chair as if it would somehow help her hear Rachel better. 

“Yeah. He did a lot of Shakespeare back in our early years. Surprisingly he was very dedicated to the arts.” Rachel pauses for a moment as she buttons up her costume. “His Caliban was heart-breaking.” She steps out from behind the divider, opening her arms in question. The tailoring of the suit, reminiscent of the Raphaelites but the light fabrics, hugging the curves of her legs give a modern twist to the ancient image.

“Fuck you look so good. Dapper yet… enigmatic. I’m betting with the beast makeup you have planned you’ll look unstoppable and tragic.” 

Rachel giggles, tugging on her waistcoat as she pulls her hair from the collar. “Thank you, Y/N. My mom made most of the adjustments. But I made the pants from my own design!”

Y/N nods, looking to her trousers and the perfect tailoring of the deep blue fabric. The fur peeking out and hanging at her ankles. “You did fucking awesome. Honestly, if Keaton finds out you’re making the costumes now, he’ll be having you working the entire costume department.” 

Together, the two leave the dressing room. Greeting and complementing the other members of the cast as they prepare for the rehearsal of the first act, the troupe following Keaton out onto the damp grass. The stage, already forcibly assembled and decorated by Blackwell’s art students, stands tall with the morning sun casting its light across its flimsy walls. Dramatic shadows cast across its rolling scenes. Even Y/N had to admit it looked magical. That the shimmer of the morning dew gave it a sense of wonder, that perhaps the magic of their words could truly make anything possible. 

Soon that thought came to life as the cast almost seamlessly began performing scene after scene. Perfecting the lines and movements they’d spent weeks perfecting. Y/N stood on the stage, looking out to the hapless empty seats, the weight of her words filling the spaces between as her voice cries in a hopeless emotion. And as she turns away from the seats, facing Hayden, she catches the glimpse of red in her eye. Stood meters away, a book forgotten in his hands as his eyes catch hers. For a second she thinks, or hopes, that he’ll look away. But he doesn’t, and it’s her that falters. Stumbling over a line as her cheeks flush red. And even with the distance between them she sees him smile. 

“…primeval.” Keaton whispers, his irritation clear in his voice. The weathered man, switching his weight between feet as he impatiently waits for her to continue. 

For Y/N, the next few scenes were agony as she waited desperately for the interval, or any second off stage. Her eyes fixed in every scene, on the spot under the tree where she’d seen Nathan stood. Not sure whether she was willing him to stay put or leave her to her rehearsals. But every second, every syllable performed until then was agony. His light eyes heavy on her skin. 

The end of the first act neared, Y/N barely even waiting for Keaton to call it before she’s marching across the grass, the heels of her boots sinking into the dirt as she approaches Nathan. His jacket hanging freely from his arm as he quickly looks down to his book, as if remembering he had it, his knuckles white as he clenches the spine. 

Y/N inhales sharply as she begins, reaching for his book. “So I guess-“

Nathan interrupts her his words flustered, and his cheeks flushed. “You were great. Rachel is seriously lucky to perform alongside you.” 

For a moment she’s stunned. Struggling to find the words as whatever anger she’s felt is now lost to the simple and expectant smile held on a Prescott’s lips. 

“Oh.” She musters, crossing her arms and looking down to the apron of her dress. “Thank you. I never took you for somebody who likes the theatre. Although Rachel did say you were an incredible Caliban.”

At this he seems uncomfortable, as if somebody would overhear what they were saying. 

“I used to.” He tells her, his voice dry with the honesty he gives. And although she doesn’t respond, she closes the gap between them. Dropping the hostility held in her crossed arms, meeting his eyes as he speaks again. “You were great though. I can’t even imagine how captivating you’ll be on opening night.” 

She lets out a small scoff, “Please I fall over half my words now. With all those people staring at me I’m going to be even worse.”

Nathan shakes his head. “Mr Jefferson told me that people are most honest when they’re scared. When faced with a primary fear, they forget everything else. And what they give is honesty. With the right eye, you can see everything they mean to give.” 

“Right.” 

“You shouldn’t be worried.”

“Thanks. I think?” She shifts uncomfortably as a silence begins to drape itself across them. Unsure of what to say next as much as she wants to fill it. Luckily, Nathan quickly speaks. 

“Tomorrow night, the Vortex Club block party. Will you be there?” 

She shakes her head. “I wasn’t planning on it. Besides I thought they were more exclusive get togethers anyway.” 

Ignoring her comment, he nods “You should come. We can hang out or something.” Shrugging he looks away from her as he awaits her decision. 

“I mean, I guess I could come for a bit? Rachel has been begging me to come since we met. So I suppose it’ll make her happy.” 

Although by the smile he was quick to disguise, it was clear that Rachel wouldn’t be the only one her attendance would be making happy. 

“Great.” He seems to bounce as he takes a step back, his eyes fixed on Y/N as he nods. “Cool. I’ll pick you up around 8. Or you can come mine earlier and we can blaze.”

She throws her arms up in an exaggerated shrugging motion. “We’ll see Prescott.” Finding it hard to stop grinning, her face aching as Keaton rings the bell to signal the end of their interval. Y/N gives Nathan a final wave before trekking back to the stage. Giddiness taking each step as she thinks to tomorrow. To Nathan Prescott, and his eyes trained on her departure, and their date tomorrow.


	2. Blinded by the Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader attends the Vortex Club block party with Nathan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all the great responses I've got to this!! I'm so sorry this took me so long to do, chapters are getting published twice a month until June where they'll be weekly (uni ends in june) (:

## TWO

###  28th March

Blinded by the lights, Y/N’s only hope was divine intervention as she attempted to push through the masses. Forcing herself between dancers and screamed conversations as the overpriced drinks she’d queued fifteen minutes for are crushed and spilt in her hands, drying almost instantly in an uncomfortable layer of stickiness.

So far, the Vortex Club’s block party had succeeded practically every one of her expectations. From the deafening music that aches at her ears, to the clamminess of the room, the air seemingly plastering her skin with every loose strand of hair and sticking it to the nape of her neck. It had been screamed words and idle gossip, and unexpectedly it had been _fun_.

Yet even without the comfort of Blackwell drama, she realised she didn’t need it to feel the movement in her heart. With the room packed with crowds she’d never seen at what was technically a school event, every person heaving and jumping. The smell of sweat mingling with the spilt alcohol and the undeniable stench of sick and weed. Had she been anywhere else in the world, she’d have found it revolting. Every passing action of the crowd seemed to change her direction as she forced her way through. The constant bustle with the howling of the crowds singing lit the room with excitement, even as Y/N mourned the loss of half her drinks, she couldn’t find the heart to care.

Not anymore. Not now she’d been pulled from the crowd, Nathans hand wrapped loosely around her arm as he clears a small space for them. Taking one of the half-emptied cups and sipping at it. He begins mouthing words she cannot hear, nodding to her encouragingly.

Looking back to him, she already feels the alcohol burning in her cheeks as she shakes her head. “I can’t hear you.” She gestures with her free hand towards her ears. Nathan rolling his eyes and she can practically hear his little huff.

But before she could even grow disheartened, or notice the small smile on his lips, he leans over to her. Pushing the loose hair from her ear as he leans closer still. Nathan’s voice unintelligible but his breath hot on her skin, she feels a different flush burning in her cheeks and for a second she wonders if it was just from the shots given to her by Juliet, or simply being stood in the presence of the most private of Prescott's. And although she still cannot hear what he’s saying, she’ll admit she didn’t mind it.

Eventually, he gives up, simply gesturing for her to follow him, simply leading her towards the back of the venue. Where the walls are draped in dark and heavy fabrics, the vibrant lights of projected confetti and geometric lines linger on every face and crevice for only a moment's hesitation, quickly moving on to expose and blind more of the crowd. He leads her deeper into the masses and towards the ‘VIP Booth’ which was a small corner sectioned off and reserved for only the most popular and elite of Blackwell. Or whoever had managed to bribe their way onto the guest list.

Y/N found herself sat in one of the makeshift booths, crushed up between Juliet and Nathan, his leg pressed up against hers and his arm draped around the back of her seat as she sipped at what remains in her cup. For a brief second, Y/N believes that she’ll get a moment to appreciate the distance between her Nathan, appreciate the heat of his voice and the questions hanging in each look he gives to her. But instead they’re quickly taken from each other. Anyone who had ever spoken a line beside her in Keaton’s classes suddenly invested in her life story, bombarding her with questions about where she’d been before Arcadia, whilst Hayden shouted into Nathan’s ear, YN feeling the shake of his shoulders as they laughed at whatever was being spoken between them.

For as long as it took her to finish several drinks, all donated by the interested parties, she felt like she’d been talking nonstop about herself for _hours_ , the words tumbling out more fluently with each drink handed to her as she watched the interest and excitement flicker across their faces until finally seeing a welcome face in the crowd, one that wouldn’t come with a million questions.

Rachel, somehow floating effortlessly through the crowds, the grin on her face never faltering, even as the elbows of a hundred erratic dancers shove into her sides.

“Y/N! As I live and breathe, you decided to come?”

Y/N almost laughs at the feigned surprise in Rachel's voice, only hours before they'd been sat in her room, dresses and skirts littering the floor, life-changing decisions being made as Rachel had held every outfit up to Y/N’s chest and spent a minute contemplating each one.

In the short time Y/N had spent at Blackwell, she’d found a certain solace in Rachel's company. Not that they were by any means best friends, from what she could tell, Rachel was like this with almost everyone. But she didn’t mind, she loved the minutes they’d have together, and today sat in her room with the setting sun filtering through the half pulled curtains, warming their faces as the alcohol did now, she could see why half of Blackwell stood in awe of her, whilst the other half seemed to recoil in a certain jealousy.

“What can I say? Blackwell is changing me.”

“For the better, I can tell.” Rachel replies matter of factly. Glancing towards the Prescott squashed up against Y/N, his arm still draped on the chair behind her but his attention now diverted to his phone, texting incessantly between hasty glances to the crowd, she gives her a wink as she extends a hand towards her. Y/N accepting it as she is pulled free from her seat. Nathan barely glancing away from his phone as the movement jostles him. “You look incredible tonight, I love this dress, you’ll have to tell me where you got it from!” Rachel winking to Y/N who was staring back in a state of confusion, her brow furrowed together as Rachel admires the materials. The dress of course was Rachels, she’d picked it out and pulled the outfit together, even picking a colour scheme based on the fact that she knows Nathan (at least used to) loves blue.

“Don’t you think so Nathan?” Rachel goads, hooking her arm through Y/N’s.

He gives her a nod, still distracted by whoever he’s been talking to for the past hour or so. “Yeah. She looks great.” His words are sincere but dry, Nathan giving Y/N a quick smile before looking back to his phone. Rachel huffing and tugging at Y/Ns arm.

“Come on. Let's do something fun.”  No more words are exchanged between them as she pulls Y/N through the crowds.

For a while they drank whilst they danced, Rachel disappearing and reappearing in moments with drinks in either hand. The music taking place of any conversation they could have had as they attempted to create memories they were sure to forget. Throwing back drink after drink and moving without care or contempt. Skin burning in the thick air around them, the heat rising to their heads every time they dared to stop moving.

 

Y/N reaches out towards her, her cheeks flush with the cheap alcohol they were both too young for, Y/N flashing Rachel a grin as she uses her free hand to move the knots of her hair, the sweat on her brow seems to shimmer under the moving lights.

Fanning herself in place of words, Rachel gives her an understanding and exasperated shake of her head, before leaning closer, practically shouting down her ear in order to be heard.

“So how is it going then?” She doesn’t need to say what it/ is in order for Y/N to understand she’s talking about Nathan.

“Good, I guess. We haven’t really spoken much tonight, which is you know.” She shrugs lightly, sipping at her drink. “He seems distracted.”

Rachel sighs, “Distracted by the wrong thing. But that’s Nathan.”

Y/N knows she’s right, after all she barely knew a thing about him, she’d be willing to bet that she knew more rumours about Nathan than she knew solid facts. Still she wouldn’t deny that it had pissed her off slightly.

As Rachel begins to speak again, her incoherent words are interrupted by Nathan tugging gently on Y/Ns arm. Giving a smile in greeting to Rachel who simply winks at Y/N, wiggling her eyebrows before disappearing into the crowds. Leaving Y/N alone among the masses beside Nathan.

In the effort she imagines he’d played as Caliban on stage, he brings the air to his lips, holding it between two fingers as he mimes a question that he knows is obvious. Tilting his head as she takes a moment to nod and, in her agreement, he grins, wildly and in a way she’d only seen once before.

A hand in the small of her back, he guides her through the crowds, beginning the pilgrimage they pushed and forced themselves out from the crowd, squirming under the drinks knocked into them as they broke free. The two sharing a knowing glance as they spotted their target; The flickering green of the exit sign, a beacon of hope and promise as it teases them with a whisper of cold air.

###  29th March

Outside she takes a second to breathe, sad for the absence of his hand as Nathan now leads them towards one of the illuminated benches, the streetlight humming softly above it. He sits down first, his eyes fixed on her as she sits down beside him. The air as thick and heavy as it had been inside, the alcohol burning on her skin and as she looks to Nathan, the same burning flush in his cheeks and a peculiar smile on his lips, she knows now that in her absence he at least managed to drink.

Clearing her throat, Y/N closes her eyes for a second. Letting the air whip softly at her exposed skin, glad for its sobering effects. But in the peace of the second, Nathan finds the words to speak, fumbling around in his jacket as he looks away from her.

“Rachel was right before. You do look incredible tonight.”

She lets out a short laugh “It sure beats the costume from yesterday.”

Shaking his head his voice grows heavy with sincerity “No, I mean it. I’m glad you came.”

Y/N lets his words hang for a moment, thankful for the awkwardness in his words and watching him pull the small tin from his pocket, studying his face under the flickering glow of the streetlight. The softness of his features marred by the dark sombre look in his eyes. In the moments around Blackwell where she’d caught Nathan in a second of thought, or glanced him in the corner of her eye, he’d seemed to carry the same look. A silent lament as if he both loved and resented the quiet he was in. And as she watched the same look soften in her gaze, she wishes she could kiss him.

Instead he pulls a joint from the tin and puts it between his lips, and Y/N looks away. Listening to the sound of the flint scratching at the wheel and looking up the sky. The clouds scarring the sky as they hide the stories among the stars, wishing it had been the same as the night before. If she was being honest, she just wished they’d been more of a distraction. Her vision suddenly blocked as Nathan’s hand holding the now lit joint in front of her eyes.

Eager again to hide her nerves, she takes it from his hand and inhales the harsh taste, holding it as best she can, trying to focus on the almost floral taste rather than the burn clawing at the back of her throat, Y/N coughing slightly, laughing to hide her nerves as she finds Nathan watching her with an amused smile, something she was beginning to grow quite attached to. 

She holds the joint over to him, Nathan not taking it nor looking away from her. His gaze almost sobering as Y/N shifts in her seat, a warmth spreading through her body as she hides the sudden fluster she feels. Frowning she looks to the ground before meeting his fixed eyes once more. His hand suddenly on her chin as he leans forward. Locked in a chaste kiss that lasts a second too short, his lips rough and chapped but the hand on her face soft and comforting, as if he’d held back whatever it was he’d truly wanted to do.

Pulling away, she composes herself. Attempting to hide the grin he’d committed to her lips. Neither speaking as she takes another drag from his joint, handing it back and feeling rather pleased that she hadn’t coughed that time.

“So, do you do this at every Vortex Club party? You know, get a girl outside, ask her for a smoke.” Her voice is light and teasing as Nathan smokes beside her.

“Do you think I do?”

She rolls her eyes, not entirely sure what she’d expected him to say, but she hadn’t wanted it to be yet another cryptic retort.

“I’m not sure...Like, right. I feel like your reputation would say sure, Nathan Prescott takes his pick and does what he wants.” He winces at his name as she carries on, moving her hands erratically as she speaks. “But, from what I know of you. Well from these past few nights. No. I don’t think you do this regularly.”

He lets out a low laugh, quiet and undisturbing as he hands her back the joint, and maybe it’s the weed or the alcohol, or even some combination of the both. But she’s sure that she’s never seen this look on his face before. Kind eyes met with a sure interest, so Y/N takes a second, or a minute, or maybe two to sit there and attempt to remember this moment. Not that she expects to in the morning, she simply wants the memory for right now.

“Are you okay?”

Y/N giggles, nodding as the joint is passed back to her. “Yeah.”

“So why were you in Wells office this morning?”

With a smug smile, she turns her whole body to face him, shaking her hand at him. “Why do you think I was?” Rather proud of her retort, she beams across at him, all too suddenly aware of the music coming from inside the block and glad that they were alone. “Wells was accusing me of vandalism or accusing me of being accused of vandalism.” She explains, shrugging half-heartedly.

 “Did you do it?”

“Do you think I did it?”

Nathan huffs, flicking away the butt of the joint, watching the ash sizzle as it drowns in a nearby puddle. “So… Y/N do you want to go back inside? We can go back to the booth or dance if you feel like it. Or we could just stay out here.” He offers, Y/N’s face contorting as she weighs up both options. Wanting to be in the warmth of the block, wanting the music and the atmosphere. But on the other hand, sat outside with Nathan, just talking and simply getting to enjoy watching him under the orange glow of lights had also been the best part of the night.

“Let's go back in. You’re getting the drinks though.” Standing from the bench, she wipes the dampness of the bench from her dress before offering her hand to Nathan, his hand quickly taking hers as she pulls him up from the bench. The two walking together, relying on each other’s strength as they swayed slightly, a giddiness taking their steps as they hurry inside.

Back in the thick smog of the party, they follow each other towards the dance floor, the two sharing the last minute of a song that Y/N doesn’t recall having any lyrics to. Both of them already flustered and sweating in the sudden heat, Nathan gestures towards the bar, shouting across the limited options of alcohol that they’d managed to acquire for the party. Y/N shouting back her preference before Nathan sets off in a near dangerous quest.

As she stands on the dancefloor, song after song comes on until soon she loses count, but she’s sure that she’d been waiting at least twenty minutes. Even in the worst of queues, she knows Nathan of all the people here wouldn’t have taken that long to come back with drinks. She tells herself she’s overthinking, waiting one more song before checking her phone. No missed calls, no notifications, no messages, save for the few texts Rachel had sent asking about how their ‘smoke’ had gone, all followed by a series of winking emojis.

Certain that Nathan should have come back by now, Y/N steps off in the direction of the VIP booth, being greeted by a loud drunken cheer, Dana practically sweeping her off her feet as she shouts down her ear about something Zachary had said.

After the clamour had cooled down, she approaches Hayden, asking him casually, in a not like she’s too concerned kind of way, if he’s seen Nathan.

“Sorry Y/N, I haven’t seen him since he went out. Victoria said she saw him talking to Rachel like…” He pauses, turning to the general direction of Victoria and shouting across.  “When did you see Nathan with Rachel?”

Victoria’s reply is practically a mumble against the music, but Hayden seems to hear it. “Ten minutes ago.” He nods, Y/N thanking him as she heads back towards the crowds.

As she pushes and shoves her way back into the fray, no glimpse of Rachel’s dark outfit or Nathans signature red, Y/N grows increasingly frustrated. The crowd that she had once not minded, now too cramped, too clammy, her skin sticking with sweat and uncertainty. Y/N telling herself that it isn’t anything to worry about. She knows both of them to a certain degree, so why was this bothering her? Why would Nathan just leave her here?

Shoving her way towards the glow of the exit sign, she takes a last glance, her blood too hot and her mind racing as she grows irritated by every passing second.

 

“Fuck this” She mutters, storming out of the door and ignoring the cloakroom as she passes it, the fresh air once again whipping at her skin. Her feet practically stomping, Y/N heads towards the girl’s dorms. Trying with every fibre she could muster not to overthink this. Rachel wouldn’t do this to her. Heck, she’d been more excited about tonight than Y/N had.

Or would she.

Afterall Nathan was a photographer, a protege to one of the most prestigious artists to ever step onto the shores of Arcadia Bay. She knows Rachel is eager for a life elsewhere, a life modelling or whatever. Maybe she would do anything for that.

She pushes the thoughts from her mind, knowing she was basically just reciting bathroom graffiti, she unlocks her bedroom door, slamming it behind her as she stumbles towards her bed. Too drunk and too angry to care, she throws her phone onto the sofa across the room, hitting the bedside light off, the room spinning with her mind as she waits to pass out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you enjoyed please leave some love here or over at my tumblr - ryesnatcher <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed let me know, I'll be updating this weekly ♡


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